Syrup, Sickness and Sympathy
by Captain-Cheesecake
Summary: A stack of blueberry pancakes, a pair of caring friends, and the worst stomach bug the TARDIS has ever seen. Doctor/Donna friendship, Hurt/Comfort


**So earlier this week I had terrible writers block. Couldn't do anything if it saved my life. UGH. I hated it.  
And then, in one of my various attempts to break through my writers block, this hit me. **

**Disclaimer: I may be able to quote Doctor Who, write about it and draw pictures of it, but I do not own it. *sigh*  
**

* * *

**Syrup, Sickness and Sympathy**

* * *

••••••••• (oO¥Oo) •••••••••

Donna Noble awoke to the smell of blueberries and maple syrup. Her stomach growled. She stood and pulled on her dressing gown, not feeling awake nor well enough to even bother getting dressed. She stumbled out of her room and made her way to the kitchen to find The Doctor standing over the stove, a small amount of flour on his brown pinstripe suit. A smile lit his face when he saw her enter.

"G'morning Donna! I thought I'd make breakfast for a change. I knew you getting tired of eating toast and cereal, so I made blueberry pancakes!" he held some up on a plate. They looked lovely. For an alien chef at least. She noticed they were a bit darker brown just around the edges, but that is not what revolted her.  
It was the smell.  
The usually delicious smell of blueberries and warm syrup that would have made her hungry on any other day made her sick to her stomach. Even just the thought of food made her woozy.

The Doctor noticed.

"You seem funny. Are you alright? "

Before she had time to answer she had reached for the garbage bin.  
The Doctor quickly put the plate down and ran to her side.

"They...smell..." she coughed.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"The blueberries..."

He nodded. He understood now.  
Trying to rid the room of the blueberry reek, he went and put the pancakes and syrup in the fridge as fast as he could, letting the TARDIS finish the job by purifying the air. The smell now gone, he returned to her side.

"What is wrong? I need to know so I can help. What's wrong with you?" he asked worriedly.

Donna sat up and shook her head (very lightly as to not make herself sick again.)

"I don't know...but don't worry about me...leave...go eat..."

Oh, but the thought of food made her sick again.  
The Doctor sat patiently besides her, waiting for her to sit back up so he could care for her.  
But she didn't sit up.  
He put his arm around her.

"Donna, I need to get you to the med-bay." he whispered, feeling guilty for asking her to do anything when she was in this state.  
She sat up and looked at him.  
Her face was a pale green colour, her eyes all red and puffy. He frowned. He felt so badly for her.  
He tried picking her up. She was too weak to resist or complain.

"C'mon. let's go." he held her as gently as he could without making her sick again.

••••••••• (oO¥Oo) •••••••••

He set her down on the TARDIS hospital bed and sighed as she asked for the trash bin again.  
He sat in the seat beside her and bit his lip in worry.  
She looked up at him and waved him off.

"I'm fine...go eat-" Ugh. Food.

He leaned forward and held her beautiful ginger hair out of the way of the bin.

"I am not leaving you."

He wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't hungry anymore and, contrary to her belief, it wasn't her fault. He was just too worried about her.

He put her hair in a loose ponytail and let it fall down her back and stood to start examining her.  
She stared at him as he did various tests on her, trying to find the cause of her ailments.  
He checked the results and nodded to himself.  
It was only a stomach bug. Nothing too serious. But not minor enough to stop his worries.  
She had settled down and had been alright for a few minutes now. He could tell her without interruption.

"It's just a stomach bug. You'll be fine soon enough." he reassured her.

She looked up at him and scoffed lightly.  
"I kinda figured. What else would you think it was?" she asked sarcastically.

Joking. Even when she was sick.  
But it could have been something more serious. A parasitic illness. Something he couldn't fix. Only, she didn't know that. He was going to keep it that way too.

"Just worrying, I guess." he mumbled.

She rolled her eyes.  
"Stupid alien worrywart."

He laughed. But it was true. He was a bit of a worrywart when it came to her.  
She moaned and held her sides as she leaned over, but this time she didn't get sick.  
He sat up next to her.

"You all right? D'you need anything? What's wrong?"

She shook her head.  
"Just achy."

He stood and grabbed a soft pillow and gave it to her.  
"This should help."

She nodded and immediately held it tight around her abdomen.

"Thanks."

••••••••• (oO¥Oo) •••••••••

The Doctor grimaced as he stood patiently outside Donna's bathroom door. She had been fine for a little while, long enough to allow him to carry her to her room for some comfort and familiarity. He had gotten her to take some ibuprofen around ten minutes ago, but it didn't have time to get into her system for she ran to her bathroom only a few moments later.  
He leaned his head against the door and pushed his eyebrows together every time he heard her moan in pain. He felt so helpless out here.  
He couldn't stand it anymore. He opened the door and walked over to her, sitting beside her on the floor.  
He gently rubbed her back as she moaned over the toilet seat.

"It's alright," he assured her, "it's alright."

She looked up at him.  
"Go away...you'll get sick too..."

He shook his head. He wasn't afraid of a stomach bug. Even if he did get sick, he didn't care. She needed him.  
She held her sides and rocked back and forth, trying to stop the ache in her stomach.

"It's alright, Donna. It's alright." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

She turned and leaned into his warm chest.  
He held her closer and gently rocked her back and forth.

"It's alright. It will pass soon. You're gonna be ok. It's alright."

••••••••• (oO¥Oo) •••••••••

He gently wiped her forehead with a damp cloth, listening to her mutter in her sleep.  
She had fallen asleep in his arms and he had carried her to her bed.  
He stroked her cheek and brushed her hair out of her eyes.  
She mumbled something that sounded like "Thank you, spaceman".

He smiled.  
"Anytime, Donna. Anytime. "

••••••••• (oO¥Oo) •••••••••

* * *

••••••••• (oO¥Oo) •••••••••

The Doctor moaned as Donna handed him the bin again.  
Three days.  
That's how long it took for her to recover.  
And that's how long it took for him to catch the bug.  
Donna's first words, though heartfelt and helpful, were nothing short of the truth;

"I told you so. C'mere spaceman."

He had opened the fridge to look for lunch when he spotted the remainder of those pancakes.  
They reeked.  
He had just enough strength and time to run to the nearest bathroom.

He was sitting in its floor now, bin in his hands, gasping for air.

"How...did you...survive...this?" he asked as he held his stomach.

Donna shook her head.  
"I had help, remember? And you do too."

He leaned over again and she patted him on the back.

"It's alright. We'll get through this. It'll go away. It's alright."

He looked up at her, his pale freckled face covered in sweat.  
"I feel like...I'm going...to die..."

Donna rolled her eyes. He was such a big baby sometimes.  
"No you're not, you big idiot. C'mere."

She gently rubbed his back like he had for her. It made him feel slightly better. But not well enough. He didn't have any strength to get out of the floor.  
He sat there in her arms and rocked back and forth, the cramping in his stomach unrelenting.

"It's alright," Donna cooed as she ran her fingers through his messy hair, "You're alright, timeboy. It will go away soon."

But oh gosh, was that a lie. It had taken nearly four days for her to leave her bed. She still felt icky every time she ate more than a handful of cereal.  
And this was only his first hour. He had at least three more days of this to endure.

He leaned against the wall, the bin to his face, his hands shaky and cold. He was always cold, she noticed. Maybe it was a Time Lord thing.

He was at it again.  
She left him alone as she searched the cabinets for the nearest thermometer.

She came back, wiped it off and stuck it under his tongue.  
Needless to say, it didn't stay there for long.  
She waited until he was finished, wiped it back off, and placed it back in his mouth.

"Sorry..." he mumbled for the millionth time.

She nodded and rubbed his back again. It seemed to be helping more than she knew.

When the time was right she pulled it out of his mouth and raised an eyebrow.

"It says 62'4. I don't know Time Lord Biology. Is this good or bad?"

He looked up at her.  
"Fever...Bad..."

She nodded and put the thermometer away. She got a wet washcloth and began wiping his forehead.

"I wonder why I didn't get a fever..."

He looked up and, to her surprise, chuckled softly.

"You…had it easy. Different...immune system...different symptoms...two...different species...like…apples and oranges-"  
He should not have brought up food.  
Was he seriously going to try rambling when he couldn't even breathe?  
She tutted and patted his leg, always comforting him.

"Shhh...It's alright. You just need to stop talking about food." she laughed lightly.

He moaned.  
She held the bin for him when he felt too weak. She didn't mind. He helped her. Now she would return the favor.

•••••••••(oO¥Oo)•••••••••

He sat against the bathtub, eyes half open, his face and ugly colour green. His teeth chattered as he shivered, fever burning higher.  
Donna sat beside him, holding a towel to wipe his mouth with, and took off his tie.

"I...need to...go...med-bay..." he managed to get through his shivers.

Donna shook her head.  
"You're not in any state to move even one inch right now. And I'm not carrying you."

He rolled his eyes and reached into his inside suit pocket, only to get sick again.

Donna reached into his pocket for him, pulling out the only thing she could find in it; his sonic screwdriver.

"What do you need this for?" she asked.

He sat up and turned to her.  
"Scanner...test...analysis..."

Donna awkwardly pointed it at him, held down the button, and after a few moments, she gave it to him.

He nodded.  
"Same thing...you had..."

Donna rolled her eyes.  
"I could have told you THAT. No need to make yourself sick."

He grimaced and held the sides of his abdomen.

Donna raised an eyebrow.

"D'you need something?" she asked.

He shook his head violently, causing him to get sick again.  
When he was finished, he sat back up.

"No…allergic...to painkillers..._deathly_..." he warned her.

She raised an eyebrow.  
"Time Lord thing?" she guessed.

He nodded, lightly this time.

"Yeah..."

"The temperature thing too?"

"...Yeah..."

She grabbed the wet washcloth and wiped his forehead, his mouth, his neck; anywhere he needed.

He reached for the hand on his face and held it tight.

"I'm so sorry..."

She shook her head. This would have been when smacked him in the arm, if only he were not sick.  
"Quit apologizing. Get some rest."

He nodded and closed his eyes. A few moments later he went completely limp in her arms.

•••••••••(oO¥Oo)•••••••••

The Doctor lay on his side, trying to dull the cramps in his stomach.  
Donna had woken him up when she tried picking him up off of the bathroom floor. He had crawled out of her arms and she led him into his room.  
She sat near him on the edge of his bed, rubbing his back and wiping his brow.  
He leaned over the side of the bed and searched for the trash bin.

Donna sighed.  
"It's alright. You're alright. Don't worry. I've got ya."

He sank back into his pillow and held another tightly around his stick thin abdomen.

"I'm…sorry...so sor-"

"If you even say 'Sorry' one more time, I'm gonna kill you before this bug has time to." she warned him.

He rolled his eyes.  
"At least...that would be faster..."

Donna nodded.  
"You bet it would."

He laughed once as his eyelids drooped and eventually closed.  
They didn't reopen.  
Trying her best not to wake him or move him around too much, she slowly pulled his arms out of his suit jacket sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt. He would be a lot cooler now. He looked so weak.  
He moaned and she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Shhhhhh...I'm here. I won't leave you. I will stay with you. Forever."

His eyelids fluttered and he pulled his knees up to his chest and curled into a ball.  
She sang to him softly as she gently rubbed his back. She knew how sore he was from always leaning over. She had been that way just a few days ago.

But tomorrow he would be worse. She knew from experience he would only feel even more awful on day 2 and 3. And he seemed to have it twice as bad as she did. But she would take care of him. She would nurse him back to health. He wouldn't be like this forever.

She sang quietly as she comforted him, knowing how horrible he would feel when he awoke. Knowing why he moaned. She did not judge him for it either. She knew what he was going through. She wished he wouldn't have to.

But she would care for him. She would be strong while he felt weak.

As she finished her song, she kissed his forehead.

"It'll be alright. I'm here. Staying here for all eternity."

He sighed deeper into sleep, looking slightly more relaxed.

"Nigh' nigh', spaceman. Sweet dreams. Feel better."

•••••••••(oO¥Oo)•••••••••

Two and a half days later...

•••••••••(oO¥Oo)•••••••••

The Doctor pulled on his dressing gown and stumbled to the kitchen, feeling rather weak still, but at least he wasn't throwing up anymore. Donna had fully recovered, so that gave him yet another few days to expect his own full recovery.  
When he entered the kitchen to find Donna standing over the stove, he backed away.

"Oh, gosh. It's alright. I'm not cooking. Here," she turned to reveal two glasses of ginger ale and saltine crackers on a small tray, "Breakfast time."

He shook his head.  
"I'm not all that hungry. Still a little...blah."

Donna sighed and pulled him over.  
"You need to eat something. You've not had food in your system for days now. It will make you feel better." she forced him to sit on a stool.

He sighed in defeat and bit the end off of a cracker and moaned. Needless to say, it did not taste all that wonderful; they were stale and terribly bland. He sipped his ginger ale instead.

"Thank you." he told her.

She shrugged.  
"Oh, don't thank me. It's not even really that great a snack, let alone a good breakfast. It's no blueberry pancake. Which, by the way, I threw out."

The Doctor's stomach churned.  
"That's not...no, I mean...Thank you. For taking care of me."

Donna swallowed.  
"Oh, that. Well, I should be the one thanking YOU. You wouldn't even have been sick if it wasn't for you taking care of me."

The Doctor shook his head.  
"Let's just call it even."

Donna nodded.  
"Sounds great. Except one thing..."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.  
"What?"

Donna put her ginger ale on the counter.  
"You owe me blueberry pancakes."

The Doctor grimaced and leaned toward the trash bin.

Donna's eyes widened as she went to go rub his sore back. She didn't mean to make him sick again.

"Sorry. No pancakes then. Never mind."

He laughed as he pulled the bin to his face.  
Donna shushed him.  
"Shhh...It's alright. You're alright."

He coughed and wiped his mouth.

"Sorry Donna."

Donna rolled her eyes. _Another apology?_  
"Alright! That did it! You're dead to me!" she exclaimed.

He laughed.  
"Glad to know."

She rolled her eyes and handed him a towel.  
"Stupid alien. I should kick you."

He chuckled.  
"Do it. I dare you."

Donna, who almost slapped him on the arm, fought the urge and patted his back instead. Now was not the time.

"Let's go. Back to bed mister."

He sighed as Donna led him to his room, one arm under his shoulder.  
She sat him down on his bed and put the bin beside him.

He rolled his eyes as she tucked him in bed.  
"Remind me to make you breakfast one day. I still owe you."

"Just not pancakes." She smiled.

The Doctor nodded.

"Agreed. Not pancakes."

* * *

** A Time Lords average healthy body temperature (59'0*F) actually differs to humans (98'7*F)**


End file.
